Hopeless
by don't.diss.the.puff
Summary: Justin was turned into a dementor on his 16th birthday.  Now it's three years later, and the only girl he's ever loved was convicted of a crime she didn't commit and was sent to Azkaban.  Can he overcome his transformation, or are they all doomed?
1. Prologue

**A/N- I was doing nothing and had this idea and loved it, so now that I'm doing nothing again I typed it up. Hope you like it!**

My name is Justin. I'm 19. I am a dementor.

Let me tell you about the day life as I know it ended forever.

I was at the park with my girlfriend, Andrea.

It was my 16th birthday, August 4th.

We had been going to Hogwarts for a few years, and were on summer break.

We were eating ice cream on the swings and laughing at some cheesy joke I told when they arrived.

The clouds swirled in the sky, blocking the sun from view and turning everything grey.

A stray wind swept through the park, blowing the litter across the park.

Suddenly, everyone bolted for the iron gate.

Except us.

We couldn't move.

They all climbed over, leaving us stuck.

Then three hooded figures appeared out of nowhere, bringing the smell of dead and decaying plants with them.

We tried to run but were paralyzed. All we could do was wait for our death.

They floated toward us.

I reached for Andrea, both to protect her and to keep me grounded, but grasped at air.

I looked to the side.

And couldn't see her anywhere.

They stole her away from me.

I tried to scream, but couldn't get enough air.

I strained to breathe, but the impending darkness was too strong to resist.

I fought for as long as I could, then felt myself falling, falling to the ground.

But it didn't matter, because all of the happiness was being sucked out of me and there's no point to living if there's no happiness.

I closed my eyes and was gone.

But not dead.

That would be too easy.


	2. Hopelessness

**A/N- Yes, I live! SO SORRY about the late update, but I get really spacey and… yeah, you get the picture. This is dedicated to PurplePrincess77, who inspired me to update! Also to Social Studies, which is where it was written!**

**Disclaimer- I don't own HP. How many times must I say this?**

Hopeless- Chapter 2

Pain.

Agony.

Depression.

Betrayal.

Loss.

Hopelessness.

Those are the words that describe my life now, my life as a dementor.

Nothing brings me joy, for how can I be joyful when I'm surrounded by suffering? Every day I'm forced to remember how it used to be, so many years ago. Those happy memories only cause my heart to break further, because I know I'm still stuck in this cage that is me, this monotonous life which never changes.

Day after day, year after year, nothing changes. For all I know, it could have already been an eternity since I last saw the sun through my own two eyes, not only from the whispers of dying souls beseeching me for more time, just a little more time.

Yes, I suppose I have given the Kiss. In my former life, the very idea would have repulsed me to my very core, to my very soul. Now, I highly doubt I even have a heart or even a soul. I know so little about the process, I'm unsure as to if I'm even human anymore. This has taken over my life, if it can be called a life when I don't truly live.

**A/N- Depressing, huh? It was a bad day. Enough said. Reviews will make it better? Please?**


	3. Creation

**A/N- I really liked writing this chapter, because I've been thinking about how dementors are made for a while now. However, you probably don't care about my personal life, so onto the chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I own HP in no possible way and this is a completely unauthorized fanfiction and by writing this in no way do I state that I own HP. Because I don't. Wait, didn't I already say that?**

Hopeless- Chapter 3

Dementors don't dream. Did you know that? We relive memories from when we were made, but scientifically, we don't dream.

I know this because every night, instead of dreaming about unicorns and llamas, I relive when I was made. Not born, but made, like Frankenstein (DEMENTORSTEIN). There were no balloons, no cake, and certainly no pointy hats. Maybe I had that, in another life. If I did, I don't have any recollection of that.

A dementor is made, simply, when a dementor sucks out more than the soul of the victim. They suck out the memories, the emotions, the independent thought, the will to live, and every little bit of individuality they posses. They take out so much that the owner is less than a shell, barely more than a corpse. Only the sheer will to cause misery keeps dementors going, when all they want is to lie down and never get back up.

That's exactly what I was thinking when a beautiful girl was brought in through the front entrance, writhing and screaming. How long it would take to turn her into a monster.


End file.
